Time to Say Goodbye
by IconofSelfIndulgence
Summary: What happens when Jimmy finds a picture of Edward Courtenay in Thomas' drawer. Thommy.


A/N: Written for alivealife on tumblr!~ :) I hope you guys enjoy.

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Sometimes, and Thomas hated himself for thinking this way, he imagined Edward Courtenay in Jimmy's place by his side, curled against him and brushing his fingers over the dark hairs of Thomas' chest post-coital. This was more toward the beginning of their relationship, because—oddly enough—Jimmy's reluctance in the relationship made him think of how Edward might act had Thomas told him all those years ago. The wound, although healed, was still a dark scar on Thomas' heart, one that may never heal—even with someone like Jimmy who absolutely and utterly adored him.

There were days where he found himself asking 'what if?' It was cruel of him to think of someone else when he had _so _much. Having Jimmy was such a dream, something he was waiting to backfire on him. They had come so far from the first time the blond came into his room, eyes rimmed red with tears, saying so brokenly, "I love you, Thomas, but—" Now they were _making love_ and Thomas could honestly say this was the happiest he ever was and could ever be.

But he could remember after the incident with Jimmy, how he begged Edward to come back, to come back to him and make the pain go away—to show him how brave he had been to take his own life—to come back and _let Thomas in_ and let him help and _oh God why did you leave me alone?_ Then he would curse Sybil for being gone and find himself halfway through a bottle of his hidden stash, sobbing stupidly in the night. He hadn't felt that way after the Thirsk fair, because his friendship with Jimmy made the world a little bit brighter.

The footman hummed, dancing his fingers against the older's skin. He kissed him and rested his chin against his chest, staring up at Thomas with innocent and kind eyes. Thomas snapped out of his thoughts and brushed his fingers through Jimmy's hair—finding a secret pleasure in being able to mess it up without the other putting up a big fuss. "You know," Jimmy spoke softly, in a voice that he only used around Thomas, "you're so beautiful."

"Oh, stop that, you." Thomas grumbled, blushing in spite of himself. His lips twitched into a smile and he nodded his head toward the drawer next to the bed, "Get my cigarettes, will you?"

Jimmy obliged and sat up to reach over the under-butler. He pushed the drawer open and slid his fingers into it, reaching around for Thomas' pack of cigarettes. He made a mental note to buy the man more, considering he always found himself mooching off them—especially after sex. Though, Jimmy was distracted when he felt his fingers brush against a piece of paper. Without thinking, he pulled it out, greeted with the photograph of a young man. His brows furrowed together as he read the name atop the left corner. "Edward, 1917." His head tilted and he sat up, pulling over the picture, forgetting the task at hand.

The solider in the picture was young and beautiful—just as pretty as both he _and_ Thomas. There was scarring around his eyes. Was he wounded? Even though it was hard to tell, it seemed his eyes had a milky quality to them. The man's dark was curled and put in a messy style, making him seem so young. He shot a glance over to Thomas, seeing the doe-eyed look on his lover's face, and turned to face him. "Who's this?"

The under-butler snatched the photo out of his hand. "No one—"

"Come on, Thomas." Jimmy frowned. "You can tell me. Is he a past lover, or—"

"Nothing of the sort, really." Thomas interrupted, looking down to the picture, nearly forgetting he had it. It'd been so long. "This is… He…" He fought for the words before sighing. "This is Lieutenant Edward Courtenay."

"Okay…" Jimmy waited for him to continue, brow rising in curiosity.

"He was blinded by mustard gas during the war." Thomas said, remembering silently the first time they'd met. "He absolutely hated being an invalid… and I took a liking to him. I was working in the village hospital at the time, and I found myself drawn to him. But all we ever had were a friendship, really… I was too nervous to ask for anything else, and I was more concerned with his health." He frowned. "He soon grew more comfortable around myself and Nurse Cr—Lady Sybil… But as he got better, Dr. Clarkson found that he didn't need to be in our care anymore."

"So he was sent away and you never heard from him again?" Jimmy asked. It seemed the most logical conclusion.

"No. I'm afraid he took the news rather badly and was dead by the next morning. He killed himself, slicing his wrists with razors. I still, to this day, don't know how he bloody got them." Thomas spoke so solemnly, remembering how he had to rid of those sheets and write the note to the family…

"_Oh._" The blond's mouth hung open. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." Thomas said, admiring the man in the photo. He smirked ever so slightly. "I dreamed of running away with him. To France. Somewhere far away from here."

"Do you wish you could go back and stop him?"

Thomas turned to see vulnerability written all over James Kent's face. The younger man looked absolutely stricken by the news, surprised that he wasn't the only man that Thomas had fallen in love with. Surely, he must have realized Thomas did have _other_ lovers (and he vowed never to tell Jimmy about the Duke of Crowborough, lest he want to break something)… He found himself smiling, reaching a hand to stroke that flawless skin. "I did for a while." He felt it wouldn't hurt to be honest, though he could see that crestfallen look in the other's eyes. "But now I have someone better."

Jimmy's lips curled into a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," Thomas responded, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips, "And he's handsome and has perfect hair…"

"Sounds like I'd get along with him," Jimmy murmured, kissing him again.

"You would. It's funny, it's almost like you two are the same person." Thomas chuckled in between kisses. "But he loves me just as much as I love him. So he shouldn't worry about my feelings being elsewhere."

"Good, because I don't think I could share you—even with a dead man." Jimmy laughed, tangling his fingers with the hair against the back of Thomas' neck. "I'm awfully jealous, you see."

"Are you now? And just how will you show me how much I mean to you?" He was a cheeky bastard, he knew, but Jimmy did show him. The love they made was sweet, tender… Different. It meant something entirely new between them. Jimmy _did_ love him as much as Thomas did, and it was such a relief and honor to have that someone finally.

As Jimmy drifted to sleep, resting against him, Thomas looked at the picture of Edward on his dresser. "Goodbye old friend," He said in a hushed whisper, holding the picture up. He smiled weakly, "I hope you're happy, and I thank you for bringing me happiness." His gaze lingered on the picture before he slid it back into the drawer.

Thomas then yawned and curled his arms around his lover, pulling him closer before falling sleep, feeling the happiest he'd ever been in his entire life.


End file.
